


(Bad) Habits

by All_Is_Now_Harmed



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hospitals, Lydia Martin & Scott McCall Friendship, Lydia is off the rails and Scott picks up her pieces, Major Character Undeath, Minor Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Miscarriage, Scott and Sheriff bond, Sheriff Stilinski Feels, Tragedy, fluff if you squint, mentions of Allison, the jeep is reborn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-01 07:32:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4011199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_Is_Now_Harmed/pseuds/All_Is_Now_Harmed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The spinning tale of how Lydia Martin unravels after the death of Stiles and their unborn child. (Based on song by Tove Lo)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I've been writing this for months. Warning, it's super sad (sorry, not sorry). I made myself cry a little over this. (I just really wanted to torture myself with a mega tragic stydia fic and couldn't find one that satisfied my level of sadness so I wrote one). I am however still debating on how to exactly end this (ugh, the struggle of writing), but fear not part two will be up soon. Enjoy.

 

**(Bad) Habits**

_“I was forced to wander, having no one, forced by my nature to keep wandering because wandering was the only thing that I believed in, and the only thing that believed in me.” ― Roman Payne, The Wanderess_

 

 

Her head is pounding. That's what she feels first. And although painful, the feeling is not uncommon. And just by touch, she knows she’s not in her bed. Her eyes slowly peel open to take in her unfamiliar surroundings. The room is dimly lit and reeking of alcohol. The sun just peaking through the large window of the messy room.

There are piles of clothes and empty bottles lying around the floor that for some reason don’t look out of place in her perspective, which certainly wasn’t answering the question of why she was so bothered by them. She brings herself to sit on the edge of the mattress running her fingers through her tousled hair attempting to remember what exactly happened the night before and how she got there.

In the living room, the sight was no different. Random people, some she even recognized as friends, lay around half-naked and passed out, an endless wave of trash surrounding them. This wasn’t an unfamiliar view for the Strawberry Blond, though. Most days it’s what she woke up to. It’s what helped her move on with her life. The wild partying, the constant drinking, the unsavory smoking. _Stiles would be so disappointed_ , she reminded herself as she walked through the rest of the apartment in search for her coat if she even brought one. 

_But that doesn’t matter anymore. Stiles is only a memory._

She spots a half empty can of Monster and without hesitation drinks up the rest, hoping the sugar will give her enough energy to get home. She feels lightheaded and disgusted by her surroundings, but in a way, the feelings place themselves into that all familiar space in her heart, an unhindered addiction, a bad habit. 

It’s not hard to remember where she was once she completely emerges to her senses. And by the time she slips on her coat  and figures out the best route home, her phone rings. 

 _Scott_ , the caller ID identifies. She can almost see him standing outside her apartment door, coffee in hand, bag of bagels in the other. But he's the last person she’d want to face right now. In fact, he's the last person she'd want to face every morning. So she ignores the call and walks out knowing well enough by the time she gets home he’d realize she was out and leave. 

It's a bitter blue, winter morning when she steps outside. Her choice of clothing, a short metallic dress over thin pantyhose and high heels were far from appropriate for the weather, but it only took about twenty minutes to haul a cab back to her place so it wouldn't be too long before she was back in the comfort of warmth.

And as she sits in the back of that dirty taxi, she closes her eyes, trying hard to push the memories that always tend to surface in the moments of her sobriety. 

There he is, right beside her. Smiling down at her in awe. Those widespread shaped lips of his sending tingles down her spine as the echo of his laughter vibrates through them. 

She opens her eyes when she feels them fill with tears.

_Stop. You cannot do this anymore._

But she can’t stop, because Stiles is not just a memory. He’s so much more than that that she can’t find a proper word to describe him. She closes her eyes once more, and this time, when she opens them, she’s back in that old Jeep. The same stupid grin plastered to his face.

 

 

_“Put that thing away!” Stiles laughs, his eyes fixated on the road. “Oh, so now that the tables have turned, you don’t like the camera, hmm…” Lydia chuckles sticking the small handheld closer to his face. Stiles rolls his eyes in amusement but continues driving._

_“There just isn’t anything interesting about my driving, babe.”_

_“We'll be the judge of that!” Lydia refers to the video diaries they were making for their unborn child. “Because if he’s anything like his daddy, he’ll find anything that moves interesting—“_

_“Do not make a fool of me in front of the child Lydia—a-and if she’s, anything like her mother she’ll pick your brains out!”_

_“Hey!" Lydia pouts a playful glare his way. "I do not do That!"_

_“Oh really? So what exactly are you doing now?” The strawberry blond parts her lips as if she was about to say something but nothing comes out._

_“Oh oh oh, fresh out of comebacks, Martin?”_

_“Oh, you know what you’ll be ‘fresh-out-of' tonight!” Lydia warns, laughing at how quickly her husband's face drops._

_“Wha-what?” But she just rolls her eyes and turns the camera back to herself. “As you see, daddy is a little strange—“ “Hey, I heard tha—!“ Stiles turns his head in her direction for only a split second before there was the sudden screeching of wheels and a quick struggle control over the car and her vision failed her._

She heads straight for the shower when she gets home letting the time pass as she stands there without a care.

Lydia stops the running shower abruptly. She’s holding herself with only the support of her hands by her side pushed against the shower wall, her head dipped, trails of water droplets running down her face; down the curve of her nose and into the tub below. She steps outside once she’s done washing clean of all the nightmares from last night. Flashes from that day cross her mind and she shuts her eyes tight, hoping to get away from the reality of it all.

After she’s done, she heads to the kitchen where she knows she’ll find piece of mind. She grabs a cup of water and drops a relaxative inside, drinking the contents dry before returning to her bed and closing her eyes once more.

This is the way it is. This is the way it works.

_When her eyes finally open, it takes only a minute to recall what had happened. Car crash, she was in a car crash. Stiles was laughing, she was filming, and then it was all a blur._

_Everyone comes in soon after; the news they bring holding heavy on their tongues._

_She lost the baby._

_At first, she’s calm. Because she’s a banshee and shouldn’t she have known that? Shouldn’t she have screamed? Shouldn’t she have felt it? She thinks they’re wrong. It's only after Melissa brings Scott in the room she starts to panic because nobody wants to tell her how Stiles is. She asks and asks, but it’s as if they’re trying to avoid the question._

_“He’s my husband, I have a right to know!” She shouts bitterly, the news finally getting to her. Scott swallows the bile building against the back of his throat. He sits by and staring into her broken but demanding eyes. “He’s not doing so good Lyds.” He barely whispers. She remains quiet. Having lost any effort to voice out her opinion._

_Her hands shake, her breathing lags as her heart falls in disbelief. Out of everything they’ve faced—a car crash could do this. “Lydia?” Scott presses, giving her hand a small squeeze. Her glazed eyes search her surroundings in confusion, in frustration trying to understand the reality of it all._

When she wakes up it's four in the afternoon and her phone is ringing. She gets out of bed, the relaxatives making her a bit drowsy but stable enough to swing her legs to the side of the bed and reach for her phone, hoping to stop the horrible noise piercing through her head. She reminds herself to keep her cell phone on silent from now on. But one look at the caller and her sense of urgency fades.

It was Scott, once again. She ignored the call knowing all he’d ask was if she was okay. It was the same stupid crap every day.

 _Doesn’t he understand I don’t want him around?_ Lydia thinks in frustration getting out of bed. She knows Stiles asked him to hang around and keep an eye on her, but Scott wasn't who she needed.

Lydia sighs and pulls herself off the bed making her way into the bathroom. Her hair was a mess, her face smeared with black from her running mascara and day-old makeup. But the tight knot in her stomach growled aimlessly against her abdomen sending waves of nausea to counter her system.

_“He’s not responding well to medication, his vitals are all over the place. We’re doing everything we can but it’s just not working.” The doctor informed them. Scott stood protectively beside her, eyes flushed and stained red._

_“C-can I see him?” Lydia’s faint voice sprung off her lips. The doctor looked hesitant and unsure, glancing to Melissa and her mother for guidance. “Let her see him.” Melissa states quietly, making eye contact with Scott. Instantly, he knows it's bad. “Melissa are you sure—?” Lydia's mother commented, her voice laced with worry. Melissa nods breaking the eye contact with her son and turning to Natalie. “Let her see him.” She repeats without any hesitation._

_Scott tries to control his emotions as he turns to Lydia. On normal terms, he knew his mother would usually object to such a thing. But nothing about this was normal, her reaction, her attitude only spelled out how dire the situation remained. But of course, Lydia heard the whole thing, and like pretty much everyone she too was aware how bad this was._

_The doctor nodded understanding but still hesitant to allow it not wanting her to move around and cause more damage than was already present._

_“I’ll keep an eye on her.” Scott volunteers, setting ease to them all._

The shops are darker than she remembers. The winter leaves paint their walls like an ever ending burning flare of haze. As she passes each identical shop her eyes are trained, watching the people. They’re laughing, smiling and she finds herself envying them. The way their happiness seemed to sit right above their heads as of in a perfect bubble tangled her nerves, nearly bringing frustrating tears to her eyes.

Now that she thinks about it, it wasn’t long ago that she was one of them.

Dopey, doe-eyed and in love; she had everything. She could almost see herself and Stiles in the faces of these people. Smiling, laughing. Really living.

She and Stiles often walked along this path; it’s lively atmosphere along with the clanging of silverware against dishes, dimmed voices of interesting conversation, and way the lights seemed to beam and bounce around created the perfect ambiance.

Looking back at it now it felt like a lifetime ago.

_“Alright, I’ll have a nurse escort you to his room in a minute. But I actually would like to discuss your treatment first.”_

_One of Lydia's eyes brows proposed up in confusion. “How you would like to proceed with the uh…” He didn’t need to finish the sentence for her to understand, and as he trailed off she seemed to relax into panic. The sounds coming out of his mouth felt like a slur of meaningless words to her. He was talking about her baby; their baby._

_“Would you like to schedule a D &C? I know this might be a touchy subject for you right now, but as your doctor I strongly recommend—“_

_“No.” Lydia swallows not meeting him in the eye. “No, I-uh—not yet. I’m gonna take a little more time.” She pressed._

_“Of course. I apologize of that seemed curt or rushed—“_

_“It didn’t.” Lydia offered a small smile of compassion to please the man. “I understand Dr. Wilson.”_

_She finds herself staring into the glass walls of the ICU trying to allow herself to recognize the figure laying in the bed._

_I was Stiles. She knew it was Stiles. But her brain simply refused to accept what was right in front of her._

_She felt a soft hand grab her shoulder in support. Scott. “Hey.” Was all he said. “Hi.” Her voice weakened on the one simple word. “Come on, you‘ve been standing out here too long… it’s just Stiles.” He seemed to whisper the last part, as if he were barely believing it himself._

_“The doctor is saying he’s been in and out of consciousness.” Lydia nods. At least he’s awake. Scott grabs her hand, a steady support for the both of them, and gently escorts her through the sliding doors and into the small of the ICU room._

_He was asleep; eyes closed, lips parted, various medical equipment lay plugged into his skin. IV’s, electrodes, nasal canal, chest tube; things she knew were vital to him from her vast medical knowledge. He looked weak and feeble, dark black circles plagued the under layer of his eyes contrasting the paleness of his skin color from all the blood loss._

_It was worse than she expected._

_She sat down beside him intertwining their hands. “Is he in pain?” Her voice broke, looking up at the alpha. Scott nods. “Yes, but the morphine’s helping mask it.”_

_For some reason she can’t stand being there. Something was wrong, something was off. The air around him, the aura, it was as if she could feel him slowly fading from reality._

_“Scott do you feel that?” She whispering it so faintly that only the ears of a werewolf can pick it up. Scott stands still for a moment before shaking his head in confusion. “Lydia what?”_

_“He’s going to die.” She whispers subconsciously in realization._

_She didn’t mean to say it. She didn’t know where it came from honestly; it just came out._

_Scott gives her a look she hasn’t quiet gotten used to; he’s never looked so petrified in his years. Their eyes meet. “Lydia?” He questions, but he knows better. A banshee is always right. “I can feel it.” She swallows tears falling down her face. Scott can’t bring himself to say anything. He just sits there, gaunt expression on his face, heartbeat racing in anxiety. He remained silent, his brain desperately trying to comprehend the words coming out of her mouth._

 

 

Lydia spots him across the playground in the park. He’s tall, dark and brooding. And now that she thinks about it, he has a strong resemblance to Derek. She watches him carefully and with enough interest to spike his attention. He smiles back at her, his attention half on the little boy she assumes is his son as he helps him across the monkey bars.

She smiles back, giving off her unresistible flair of charm she knows men find hard to resist.

He approaches her first, eyes set clearly on his target, playful grin on the tip of his lips.

 _He’s perfect._ She decides.

And it only takes a few short words of flattering exchange before she finds herself in his apartment, naked and stretched across his bed.

 _This is exciting._ She loves this, but she hates this.

She closes her eyes as she feels his looming presence cast a shadow from above, letting the alcohol take a toll on her mind indulging her in the fantasy. The way he touches her reminds her of the endless nights (and days) she’s spent with Stiles. She misses the highs—the addiction. She misses his touch. The Derek look-alike, she couldn't remember anything about his name other than the fact that it started with the letter ‘J’, flips her on her side and pulling her closer in his embrace, his huffy hot breath lining the side of her neck in rhythm.

“St-i-i-les.” She faintly lets out. But the man doesn’t notice, he’s to focused, too into it to do so.

But still, its not the same. She knows she can fantasize and dream all she wants, but the touch is never the same, the feel is never satisfactory enough, the fit of their bodies is never quiet right. This is exciting. She reminds herself closing her eyes once more. You love this. That is, until the guilt hits her. “That was fun.” The man exhales with a smile after they’re done.

 _Jake_. She remembers, his name is Jake. “Yeah.” She smiles almost wickedly, though theres no need for further flirtation.

“What’d you say your name was again?” He asks without any embarrassment. “Lydia,” She answers, the reality of the situation slowly seeping in. She doesn’t understand why that hurts. She then gets up, not even bothering to cover herself as she picks her clothes off the floor.

“Nice to meet you Lydia.” Jake’s eyes don’t leave the curves of her exposed body as he relaxes in the bed. The strawberry blond turn around and gives him her sweetest little grin.

“You too.” Its immoral and it’s wrong, but she loves it — she feeds off it.

“We should do this more often.” He suggests casually. Lydia stops in her tracks and considers it. It’s a quick thoughtless decision. “Tomorrow, same time, here.”

“Sure thing.”

She leaves fulfilled, but completely drained.

She doesn’t go home though. She hates home, what is stands for and all that crap. Its just constant reminder of what she’s lost. So she just wanders around attempting to avoid the familiar places. She gets the call about half an hour later, her buddy James talking about getting together with the usual group tonight. She agreed meet him at the bar in fifteen with no enthusiasm what so ever.

They meet at their usual pub near market street and wait for them all to round up. They drink as they wait, telling stories, making jokes. It’s nothing too heavy, not as of right now. Lydia’s on her second beer as Scott walks in, he greets their group, then goes straight for her.

“Hey you didn’t answer my calls today.” Lydia nods, taking another swing of her drink. “Yeah I know.” It’s rude, but it doesn’t bother her anymore than it does him. “Lydia you—“ “Save it McCall. If I wanted a lecture I’d be talking to my mother.” And with that she gets up, taking a new seat beside James.

Nobody really notices though, they’re too busy mingled in their own conversations.

Cigarettes aren’t something Lydia’s ever really given much thought to; she knows they don’t do anything but kill the her need for performance yet, she doesn’t care. She loves the feeling the smoke leaves after it rises from her lungs and escapes into the air. She loves the high it feeds her with.

Scott watches her from across the booth table recalling her giving him and Stiles a talk about smoking one time in their teens when she caught them even talking about the subject. And as he watches her socialize and pull that cigarette between her soft plumped lips, his heart sinks.

_“I don’t care what you were planning or even discussing, if I catch you — either of you,” She looks between the two goof balls in front of her, their smirks so priceless. “with one of those things anywhere near your mouth I personally draw back monsters to kill your asses.” She glares at them, eyes peered. “Uh, ye-yeah.” Stiles scorches the back of his head trying to contain his laugher. The boys then eye each other. They weren’t even actually smoking, or had any passion of the thing really. The topic just seemed to spur out one day._

He watches her closely, smoking that cigarette so fast like she’s just waiting for it to kill her. She’s laughing endlessly with their friends, who were so oblivious to what was going on with her. He sighs in disappointment and takes a sip of his beer watching as she exhales the smoke from her lungs, and takes a faction of a second just to watch it dance and vanish through the air.

The sparkle in her eye dims then she quickly turns back to her friends. They’re ordering a round of shots which she gracefully accepts.

It helps with forgetting.

 

 

_“They’re flying the stent in from Portland,” Melissa explained. “it’s gonna be awhile.” Lydia shook her head in frustration. “No, no.” The strawberry blond refused to accept the news. “I’m gonna call the best doctors—I-I have connections—I know people in the field Melissa, I-I could —“ She insisted rummaging through her bag to find her phone._

_But Melissa stopped her short and offered a small smile of compassion. “Honey, what he needs is time,” She swallowed uneasily, their eyes meeting._

_“And no doctor can buy him that.”_

 

 

Lydia laughs at the crude joke James expresses, just letting the bitterness of the alcohol drown down her emotions. She’s feeling better, its helping.

“Hey, Mark’s telling me this about this new underground club on 59th and 6th he’s at; all black light. Guys wanna go?” One of the girls suggests looking up from her phone in excitement. Scott is the first to voice his opinion. “I-I don’t know, I mean, we just got here an—“

“Oh don’t be a party pooper McCall — your mother would be ashamed!” Lydia nearly explodes as everyone joins her laughter. She was already at the point where she wasn’t making any sense. “You used to be so fun, Scott!”

“Lydia you have to —“ But the look she gives him stops his sentence short. She staring at him, her eyes eye wide and dilated lips teased with amusement. She doesn't take anything he had to take seriously. “I know. It’ll be fine Scott jeez, chill. Come on guys.” She replies. Everyone gathers their belongings and makes their way out of the pub.

Scott swallows but remained voiceless. Sometimes silence was the best answer.

And he knew Lydia. In her state, there was no changing her mind. He misses the old Lydia, the utterly independent, poised, put together, manipulative, genius Lydia Martin who was the youngest woman to ever win the Fields Medal. This is not the Lydia he grew up with, this is not the Lydia he fought battles and wars and lost Alison with. This was merely an image of who she once was.

The music vibrating through her body helps mix the toxic poison from the various alcoholic drinks she’s had that night. At random points of the night she finds herself lip-locked with two other girls, letting the buzz of her addiction drive her through the night without a care. “To and endless night! One, two three!” James led the group as they circled around the round of shots, on three they chugged them down and cheered.

“Aw, sweetie you have a little something here.” Lydia chuckled whipping the side of James’ mouth with her thumb and whispering in his ear. They laughed. “Another round on me!” Lydia hollered.

 

 

_“Ly-ds?” His voice scrapes along the rugged sides of his throat. and air fills her lungs, as she comes to the realization he’s awake._

_She quickly sits up and stares at him with a welcoming smile. “Hey.” She lets out giving his hand a quick squeeze. He’s weak, and drained of energy, but he still manages to frown in confusion._

_“Y-you’re in the hospital Stiles, there was a car crash.” Lydia explained. “W-We're alright.” She lied not wanting to set panic through him. He took a moment to process as he nodded. Then it simply came back to him. “A-and the…” Lydia swallowed and glanced at the bulge in her stomach for a moment before locking on his eyes. She watched as the expression on his face fell into horror._

_Tears fell down her face as she presented a small smile and shook her head. His eyes shut tight forcing the tears out. It was one of the only times she’s seen him cry. She never thought this would happen. It felt like watching a car crash in slow motion right before her eyes, being able to predict the casualties, but not being able help what so-ever. She can’t remember a time when she’s felt so helpless._

_“But it’s okay.” She whispers even though its not. “Its okay. B-Because I’m okay, a-and you’re gonna be okay. A-and everything will be okay.” She mumbles softly trying to instill some hope though she doesn’t believe any of it._

_Stiles doesn’t know how to respond. He’s so wrapped in the emotion, he hardly remembers he’s the one at risk anymore. “Oh god I’m so sorry — I —“_

_“No, Stiles this wasn’t your fault, these things, they happen…” But one look at him and she knew it was going to be hard to convince him otherwise._

 

_“I’m gonna die aren’t I?” Stiles mumbles once Lydia’s gone. Scott instantly eyes his mother across the bed in alarm, then turns to his best friend._

_“What? Stiles —“_

_“I heard you guys outside the door… you’re lying.” He eyes his best friend. “I can tell something’s wrong — everyone’s so cautious around me… L-Lydia’s crying every time she comes in ‘ere.” His eyes droop._

_“I’m not getting better, in fact I can feel I’m getting worse.” Scott swallows his adman apple bobs nervously. “Stiles, that’s crazy you aren’t —“ Melissa tries to comment, but Scott cuts her off. “Lydia felt it the first time she came in here.” He explained his head was spinning, he was tried of lying. Melissa tightened the grip on his arm in support. “So its true.” Stiles tries to confirm._

_“We’re not exactly sure.” “But we still have some options here, uh they have you scheduled for surgery as soon as the stent arrives, and that could change everything.” Stiles nods, though he doesn’t believe anything she’s saying. If Lydia felt it. It was true. She was never wrong._

_“There is another option…” Scott suggested hesitantly. “If you’re dying, we’ll do something — I’ll do something.” They’ve been there before. Stiles swallows uneasily, letting the unwanted deja vu consume him._

 

 

Its probably one or two am, she couldn’t tell the time anymore, when the mixture of alcohol and music pumping through her ears excites her to the point she finds herself making out with James. They’re dancing, he’s shirtless they’re grinding and smearing the glow in the dark paint all around their bodes carelessly. Alcohol lingers her hot breath as he gets up and leads her to the bathroom where they both know they’ll be alone.

She’s trembling, out of fear, excitement, or maybe from the shock her body was going through trying to digest all that alcohol. James moves fast. It’s not their first time together. They’re a casual thing, no feelings, no emotions.

She just tries not to think about it because before she knows it she’s half naked and he’s pulling his pants down, the hot of this breath moans against the skin on her neck. She closes her eyes and lets her mind wander the rhythm of their movement lulling her into a world of fantasy as her hands search the slope of his back in desperation. They don’t take long to finish, and when they do James feeds her a smile.

Her eyes never leaving the trail of lipstick that stain the side of his neck. He then plants a kiss on her cheek, giving her a thanks before he stumbles off back to the party, leaving her to sit alone in the bathroom stall.

She questions her actions sometimes, they’re wreckless and destructive but it’s the only thing she knows. And it’s in these moments, when she’s all alone she can feel the loneliness fill her core like a void; ever present and always lingering. And not even the alcohol and help with that. That’s when it come crashing down. Thats when she can’t take it any longer and longs for an escape.

That’s when she finds herself balling her eyes out, staining her face with the black smears of her makeup, and the glow in the dark pink paint. She asks herself how she got here. How she got to such a point that she can’t turn back. She’s too far gone. And of course, all reason, all blame points to that stupid car crash, and that stupid boy with that stupid smirk. But for some reason Lydia can’t find it in herself to inflict hatred with the memory of him. She tries of course, knowing it’ll be easier if she does. But it always fails.

She cries, letting her emotions get the best of her. And no one can hear her, the music is so loud it pumps through the walls of enclosed bathroom. So its just her and the black graffiti markings in the old wooden bathroom stall. And the ruined memories that remain. This is where the alcohol turns against her.

 

 

_“He’s unstable. His vitals are all over the place Lydia—“_

_“O-okay.” The strawberry blond tries to swallow down. “H-how long out is that stent?” “_

_Hours Lydia—“_

_“Okay… well, we have to do something—“_

_“There’s not much we can do Lydia.” Ms. McCall urgently explains, bringing more frustration into the strawberry blond girl. “Then get Scott. I’m not watching my husband die.”_


	2. Chapter 2

 

She searches for him constantly. See's him the the faces of strangers on the street, sees her life in the roundness of a pregnant woman bump. And this time its in the words written on the stall. They are everywhere. Behind the meaning of the names circled in hearts, and dates written scurrily across the wood, but somehow there’s not really trace of them anywhere. And suddenly, she becomes nauseous. Before she barely has time to react she gets up and turns around, aiming toward the toilet.

She doesn’t hear the stall door open, but she does feel a familiar strong pair of hands pull her hair back, chunks of vomit tangled in her locks. But he doesn’t care, he’s done this many times before it's almost instinct. It’s awhile before she gets up and faces him. Her eyes are red, her cheeks stained raw, her nose runny, she’s a horrible mess. But he see’s past that. She’s scared and hurt, and all he wants to do is take that pain away. But he can’t, he knows this is something she has to do herself.

“Go away Scott.” 

“W-what are you even doing here. Just go away, go away.“ She doesn’t want him there. She doesn’t need someone to look over her like she's a child. She’s not a child. She’s Lydia Martin. She’s debatably the smartest person on the planet. Scott shuts his eyes, the words sting. “Come on, let’s get you home.” He attempts, but she shakes her head. “No. I don’t want to. I don’t want to go home.” She mumbles in her drunken state.

“I’m fine.” She sways subtly until she finds support in on the side of a sink.

“No you’re not.” Scott presses in disappointment.

“Why are you here Scott!? I don’t need you here.” She fires. Her words meant to hurt.

“I’m here because someone has to take care of you—“

“No.” She declares abruptly; anger boiling over her. “No, you don't get to do that. You don’t get to watch over me and protect me—I’m already broken McCall!” She nearly screams. “There’s nothing else to protect me from. Don’t you get it?!”

Yes there is. You. I need to protect you from yourself. He wants to voice but doesn’t find the courage. Instead he settles for the next best thing. “Stiles was my best friend. He—“ His voice clam and pained before she cut him off. “Yeah, was, as in past tense… Stiles…” She takes a second at the name for she hasn’t spoken it in months. “Stiles is gone. He’s dead.” She rested against the drenching her face with water not daring to look at her reflection in the mirror.

“You’re not the only who’s hurting Lydia.”

“Oh yeah?” There’s no emotion tied to her voice. “And who’s fault is that?” the way she says that sentence is as if she’s aimed it at him. “You don’t mean that.” Scott mumbles. “Oh and what? You and your little werewolves senses can tell?” Her nostrils flare in frustration and it only takes her a moment to pull from getting lost in Scott’s pained irises before she makes her way past him and out of the bathroom.

 

 

_“He’s not doing so well.” Scott stated. Melissa shook her head. “He just found out his unborn child is dead. Of course he’s not.” Scott looked to his mother. “It’s not that mom.” He shakes his head, he can barely bring himself to look into Stiles’ room anymore. “It’s Lydia. What she said… about him. What she felt.” He sniffs, as he watches his mom react to the news. “I can’t lose him mom, I can’t…” It’s not the first time Melissa hears of this._

_“Scott have you considered that not everything could have a supernatural connection?” She looks up at him with such determination, that her strength inspires him. “Listen to me. He’s going to be fine. He’s going to get better.” She easily denies not knowing how much of it she believed herself. But that didn’t matter. Nothing was going get in the way of her trying to keep her son from panicking._

_“Try not to worry yourself okay? L-Lydia is a lot of things, she's been wrong before.”_

_Stiles and Lydia watched them talk from beyond the glass, not being able to hear a thing they were discussing._

_“Did you ever notice Scott get’s this cute dimple in his chin whenever he’s emotional.” Lydia chuckles trying to lighten the mood as she turns her head back to her husband. “I love you.” Stiles mumbles softly catching Lydia attention unexpectedly. “What’s with the sudden declaration of love?” She teases. Stiles shrugs. “I don’ know. Jus don’ say it enough.” He voices although she knows the real answer. He’s scared._

_“I’m glad you’re okay.” She denies, attempting to swallow back her inevitable tears._

_“Hey, Lyds,” Stiles quickly notices. “what is it babe?”_

_But the strawberry blond shakes her head wanting nothing more but to bury herself in the pit of his shoulder and cry all the frustration out._

_“Hey Lydia —“_

_“They wouldn’t tell me. About you — they didn’t want to tell me how you were doing — I — I thought you were dead.” She cried. But Stiles chuckled. “You couldn’t possibly have believed that.” He states with a sad smile. “You would’ve known.” She nods understanding. “I-I know, but I just —“ She turned away from him not wanting to feel so vulnerable in his eyes. “Hey Lydia, Lyds. Look at me. Right at me.” She turns back, wiping her tears aimlessly._

_“Don't ever doubt yourself. Do you hear me? Don’t ever doubt yourself.” She nodded. “You are Lydia Martin; the mother of my unborn children, the smartest person on the freaking planet. When have you ever been wrong?"_

_“Stiles Do you know what a D &C is?” She whispers climbing in next to him and snuggling to his warmth. But he surprisingly nods. _

_“Well, uh... I have to schedule one soon. I-I don't want to, but I have to.” Stiles swallows looking down at her. And although weak, his hand lingers to her stomach._

_“I’m sorry this happened Lydia Martin.”_

_“Me too.” She whispers._

_“But we’ll get through this. I promise.” Stiles reassures._

_“Yeah, we will… hey, a-and maybe we can finally move into that apartment that’s taking forever to decorate.” He chuckles lightly. “And maybe when the time comes, try for some more babies.” He finishes. Lydia nods, tears falling down her face._ _“Lydia.” He could she was beyond upset. “I-I’m sorry I don’t want to cry.”_

_“No, you cry. You’re beautiful when you cry so the view's nice for me.” He jokes as she nudges him in the arm and let’s out a small smile._

_“Tell me about these babies.” Lydia mumbles softly wrapping her mind the fantasy of it all._

_“Well, we’ll have to have like ten.” He answers with a smirk exaggerating at the number. “Ten?” Lydia questions. “Of course, we’ll have to start right away.”_

_“How about two?” She suggests. “Two sounds perfect.” Stiles compromises, his response time is lagging for he’s slowly growing tired. “They’ll have your eyes, and my lips…” He trails on. “And your Polish roots.” Lydia adds._

_“Yeah.”_

_“A-and we’ll be happy.”_

_“So happy.” Stiles repeats. Lydia looks up at him. His eyes closed, face so peacefully lulled._

_“I love you.” She whispers tears running down her face for she doesn't know if they’re never gonna get to do those things._

_“How could you not, I mean look at me.” He jokes, getting lost in the her comfort of her words. “Hey, Lydia? Guess what?" He plays with the smile on his face as the rest of his features come to a rest._

_"Hm?"_

_"I love you back."_

_She nudges her head into the crook of his neck in comfort but her eyes never close. She's too scared to let them._ _“Please don’t leave me.” Her voice is so faint. Broken beyond measure, but somehow he picks it up._

_“I'm right here, Lydia."_

 

 

She found herself sitting on the couch in her apartment and she takes a moment to rationalize how she got there. She had left the club in a hurry not wanting to be around Scott any longer. She was more than buzzed, but somehow she felt as if it wasn’t enough. Then again nothing was ever enough anymore. It was there she decided to feed her calling demons. The large bottle lay comfortably in her lap, an easy access even in her state. There was no need for glasses and formalities; she was drinking the red all on her own.

Never the less she didn’t want to put a measurement on the number of poison she was putting in her body. Stumbling across the the hallway she made her way to a room she hadn't dared to step in a long time. It was dark and cold, with only the moons reflection from the window providing light. Everything remained still and quiet. Time stood still here. Nothing was changed, nothing was touched. She made her way through the room and plopped down in the rocking comforter and looked around, taking everything in.

The crib stood tall against the rest of the furniture. Pictures of them—the both of them laughing smiling surrounded her on the walls almost as if they were mocking her. That was the way it was supposed to be. But all she could think about was that she hadn’t seen his face so clearly in so long.

By this time, she calculated, the baby would’ve been seven months and almost grown. They would’ve named her Claudia after his mother, or Davis after her grandfather. But now all that remain were vacant rooms and empty holes in her heart.

She took a swing of the bottle and drank her sorrows.

 

 

_The sounding alarms lulled Lydia back to consciousness. It was a strange noise, almost resembling the one they had back home. But she could instantly tell is wasn’t._

_She peeled open her eyes and peered down at Stiles. “Stiles.” She exhaled sleepily waiting for him to reply. But after a few seconds of no response she traced the noise back to the machines he was hooked up to. Her heart stopped, and for a moment, her inability to speak did too as the sounds of the alarms were burning their way in the the back of her mind forever._

_"Stiles?”_

_She sat up, hand reaching to the side of his face hoping to wake him. But he remained unconscious, eyes closed, body limp, unresponsive._

_“Stiles?!”_

_Her hands impatiently shook his shoulder waiting for a response, any response. But then doors burst open and a wave of medical ordeals rushed in and she felt Scott’s familiar arms, rip her way from his sight. She struggled to remain in the room, aimlessly fighting Scott. Her eyes never leaving Stiles’ unnervingly still body._

_“Stiles?! Scott, let me go!” She cried. “Please, let me go!”_

_And just like that, somehow she managed to escape his arms and rushed back to her husband’s side. Scott didn’t have the will to grab hold of her any longer, so there he stood off to the corner, watching in horror. At this point doctors surrounded him injecting his body with fluids pumping his blood with drugs._

_“Ma’am you need to leave!”_

_“What’s going on?! What’s happening to him?!” She ignored the medic as a wave of nausea crashed against her._

_“Ma’am we need you to step back!”_

_This time Scott gently pulled her numbing body toward where he was standing, getting her out of the way. Lydia could barely see through the fog of nurses and doctors working away on him, so she just removed herself and watched the horror unfold before her._

 

_“Irregularities are present in his heart, we gotta get him to surgery!”_

_By this time Melissa ran inside stepping in front of Lydia’s view as they rushed Stiles out of the room. But it was no use. She saw him as they passed. That ungodly tube running down his throat, and the endless sea of medical equipment added. But the strawberry blond remained standing there, in her frozen trance._

_That night was the last time she heard his voice._

 

 

She stands, a picture catching her eye. She and Stiles at their anniversary dinner with Papa Stilinski. His honey brown eyes pierce through hers and she can almost hear his voice ring through her head. She members that night like clear day.

 

 

_“Dad —“ “Oh god son. I know that tone,” His father sighed, a slight smile breaking on his lips in amusement. “this can’t be good.” Lydia laughs but says nothing._

_“What did you do?” Stiles’ father continues in the same condescending tone. Stiles gapes at his father looking to Lydia before opening his mouth to speak._

_“What makes you think I did something?” He questions but is cut off by his dad once more. “You know, I was looking through some of my old police boxes and noticed a few files were missing, does this have anything to do with that?” He turned to his daughter-in-law. “Do you know anything about this Lydia?” The strawberry blond chuckles but answers with a “Maybe”._

_Stilinski noticed the their attempt to hide their laughter as he continued. “What? What’s so funny you two? You know Stiles you could get in come deep trouble with SFPD if you’re not—“_

_“Lydia’s pregnant!” Stiles blurts out of nowhere._

_The sheriff freezes, a bigger smile forms on his face. “What?!” A trace of disbelief flashes scores his face in shock. “Oh my god! — Congratulations!” He nearly explodes with joy getting up to hug Lydia then his son. “No, congratulations to you Grandpa!” Stiles shoots back playfully._

 

 

She regrets nothing, but everything the moment she wakes up in the morning.

Nausea greets her first, then the burning in the back of her throat from all the alcohol. She doesn’t understand how her body can handle it all. But then again this has been happening or a while, she must of grown accustom to it. The nausea is kind of nice actually, for a moment every morning she feels like she’s pregnant all over again. That is, until her hands linger the the flat of her stomach, and the reality washes over her.

She has to stop pretending. It’s not healthy.

It’s only destructive and cruel to herself but she doesn’t want to. She lives for those moments when she laying on her bed, imagining Stiles asleep right beside her. She misses him in every form. And it seems like with every passing day it only gets harder and harder.

Some night’s she hates the memory of him. She’s mean and she blames him. But deep down inside she knows it wasn’t his fault. Her anger is just a storm she hasn’t figure out how to control yet. Most night’s she finds escape in his memory: in their time together. She let’s her mind wander, the bottle by her side, with that dopy smile plastered to her face.

But this day is different.

Today she’s laying on the floor of the room that was supposed to be the baby’s not wanting to move a muscle. She wonders how she willed up the courage to enter that room, but it doesn’t take long for her to realize the alcohol probably helped. She just didn’t expect to wake up there, she hoped she’d stumbled back to her bedroom and crash on the bed.

“Lydia?” The voice echoed in a slight panic through the apartment. For a moment, she thinks she imagines it and does nothing to respond. “Lydia?” The voice is more urgent as she hears the pacing of footsteps until they stop abruptly at the foot of the door.

“Oh, Lydia.” Scott exhales, both relief and concern running through him at the sight of her sprawled across the floor, a bottle of wine tipped next to her, staining any left contents in the carpet.

She wishes he’d stop. Stop calling, stop watching over her, stop coming every morning. She doesn’t want him to see her like this. In fact, she doesn’t want anyone to. He’d send Kira over in the beginning when he couldn’t face her himself or when he was bad too. But that’d been long ago, and he got out of that faze and slowly learned to accept what had happened.

The same could not be said about Lydia though. It’d been over a year and it was only getting worse.

“You have to get up Lydia.” His voice is so tender she can almost hear him quiver. And when she doesn’t answer he continues to press. “Lydia I’m serious,” He crouches next to her and helps her sit up.

“I can’t.” She whispers just barely audible. But Scott doesn’t understand. “Here I’ll help you.” He extends his hands but nothing happens, so he continues to press. “You need to get up and take a shower. You have a lecture at five today. Did you prepare anything for that?” He asks. She shakes her head, her eyes never really meeting his. “N-no.”

“Okay. That’s okay. We’ll figure something out, but first,” He helps her to her feet. “we need to get you cleaned up.”

As she showers Scott reenters the nursery. He tells himself its to clean up after her; throw the bottle away, wash up the stain as much as he can. But in reality he just wants to sit there for a moment. Scott’s only been in there once, when pitched in to help paint the walls. There was no furniture at the time, only blank half painted walls, with the strong smell of paint fumes bouncing around.

That seemed like a lifeline ago.

He imagines them as parents—more prominently Stiles as a parent. Tucking their little one in at night, telling bedtime stories, fighting over diaper changes, and he finds himself chuckling. Stiles would’ve been a phenomenal father, he had no doubts.

He gets up in a hurry once he hears the shower shut off, he doesn’t want Lydia to find him there, in that room, so he scurries out, trying to make himself look busy in the kitchen. He watched from the corner of his eye as the strawberry blond made her way to the bedroom, white towel wrapped around her petite body frame.

“Bagels are on the counter if you’re hungry!” He shouts as she passes. But just like he expects, she provides no reply.

 

 

_“We’ve managed to prolong the time he has without the stent with the surgery, but unfortunately with that, come other complications.” The doctor informed them._

_Lydia nodded, trying to stay strong in time of panic, but Scott could tell she was freaking out through the rapid beating of her heart._

_“Such as?” The doctor eyed Melissa or a quick second before, and instantly Scott knew it was bad._

_“His right lung collapsed, we managed to repair that in surgery but it didn’t come without any damage. He’s not breathing on his own —“_

_“I-I’m sorry what does that mean exactly?” Lydia cut him off. “There are early signs of septic shock that I’m concerned about, right now we’re treating him with heavy antibodies that we hope will stop or even slow down the process.”_

_“II-I just don’t understand. You need to explain to me what that means exactly.” Lydia wasn’t confused, in fact she was far from it. She understood the medical terminology behind what he was saying, She just couldn’t comprehend it at the moment. “Lydia, his organs are starting failing.” Melissa spoke clear and soft, her eyes ever leaving the strawberry blonds. Lyda just nods once again, this time it’s harder to force her tears in, They fall and stain her cheeks raw. She doesn’t know how to process the information without it getting to her. “Well, you can prevent it, right?” The expression on the doctors face looks grim. She doesn’t understand how unprepared she is for this._

_She knew it was going to happen, she could sense it — feel it even like it was a present never ending void in the space between her heart, constantly reminding her._

_“We have him on strong antibiotics, but they’ve shown no signs of working.” Melissa replies._

_“Would you like to see him?” The doctor asks._

_She quickly nods, not having the will to voice her actions for the moment. They lead her to him._

_She enters alone for when Scott sets his eyes on him he stops dead in his tracks, and once Melissa takes notice she eyes Lydia, gesturing if it’s okay she stay back. The strawberry blond nods. In fact she actually glad she going in alone._

_“Scott?” His mother asks faintly as she steps in his view. “Y-yeah?”_

_“You okay?” He nods though she knows it’s a complete lie._

_She watches him struggle to regain his footing. “Honey you don’t have to do that with me, you don —“ She begins but Scott cuts her off. “T-this is too — I need to sit down.” He waves his hands in front of him trying to regain his balance for his core is shaken. He shakes his head repeatedly after that, answering his mother's question over and over again as Kira appears around the corner. No, he is not okay. No, this is not okay. Kira latches herself to his side on the bench in the hallway without a word. Knowing the only thing he needed was a strong support system he could confined in her for._

_Expect for the humming and beeping of machines with the vent, the room is unnervingly still and quiet inside. The noises are ever constant, ever present._

_She sits, taking his view._

_There’s a thick tube snaking it’s way down his throat; he’s pale and so still it instils fear in her. Even when he slept he’d move around, aimlessly twisting the sheets around his legs, stealing the covers and leaving her cold. But now, nothing. He just lay there in that daunting state._

_“Stiles.” She whispers, taking ahold of his hand. It was funny, half of her almost expected him to reply._

_“Stiles?” Her voice breaks as she cries for she can’t keep it together any longer._

_“Just prove me wrong, okay? Look, I know you told me not to doubt myself but right now I want nothing more. Prove me wrong.” She can’t go on anymore. “I need you. Stiles, please. I need you.” She inhales for she’s short of breath from the shock._

 

 

Scott stood there, pondering around the kitchen waiting for Lydia to come out. But it’s been twenty minutes and he can’t hear any movement. So he gives her five more minutes until he knocks on her door and walks in.

She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, towel still wrapped around her body, starting out into blank space.

She wasn’t there, not fully.

“Lyds?” He asks crouching in front of her.

Her eyes are tried but focused on the empty space around her. She’s either in deep thought or her mind is blank. Scott can’t tell.

“Lydia, you have—”

“I don’t care.” She mumbles not wanting to hear it.

“I know you don’t… but you have to live your life.” They sit there for a moment in utter silence.

“I can’t.” She whispers again, and this time Scott realizes what she actually means.

“I can’t get out.”

 

 

_Melissa is shaking her head when she walks out of Stiles’ hospital room. Her eyes meet the Sheriff’s with dread._

_“No change.” She explained in a hushed tone. Stilinski nods, trying hard to accept what was happening here, but he doesn’t want to. “H-how long?“ Melissa shrugs unsure. “Uh… it could days.” She states. “A-and what about the stent?” He asks in hope. “I-It’s a little late for the stent.” She mumbles trying to hold herself together. “I-if they take him to surgery he —“ Her voice breaks as she pulls her hands and runs them through her hair in desperation._

_“He’s too weak. He’s won’t survive it.”_

_Stilinski nods, gazing into the room through the window. “How did this happen, Melissa?” He’s in utter disbelieve. “I-I mean… a car crash.” He frowned. “It just doesn’t make sense.”_

_Melissa shakes her head, whipping the silent tears she can’t control from her face. “I don’t know.”_

_“I-I should’ve gotten there sooner, I-I—“_

_“No.” Melissa firmly stated. “You-you don’t get to blame yourself for this. This wasn’t your fault.” She barely holding herself together anymore._

_But the Sheriff shakes his head. “They were on the way to Beacon Hills to have brunch with me… w-when I go that call from Scott…” His heart drops, he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. “They were trapped in there, you know that?” He takes a seat in the hallway not having the will to hold up self up any longer, Melissa right beside him. “The car was so…” He took a moment. “it was so bad they had to cut them out…” Melissa nods, her arms drop to their sides and she grabs his hand. “I heard.”_

_“My son is dying.” The sheriff states. The reality of it all still not hitting him. How could they be there right now? A week ago he was eating a steak dinner in the city with them. Sitting across his son and his daughter-in-law finding joy in the bulge of Lydia’s stomach for it only held the future._

_How could it all be gone today?_

_Lydia sat at his vigil, her eyes having lost their spark. She’s holding onto him. His hands are clammy and cold for they haven’t met the warmth of life in a while._

_Two days, and nothing changed. Well, nothing’s changed for the better. The symptoms the doctor was talking about turned to be correct, he was indeed in septic shock. They put him on dialysis and since then it’s only gotten worse. He needs a kidney transplant, liver transplant, and a miracle. She doesn’t talk much, even though she should. A part of her feels that he can hear her, but the other half diminished all hope._

_Every time she lays her eyes on him, the pit of her stomach turns in a nasty way. She can’t bare to see him like this any longer, but she can’t bring herself to leave. Sure, he isn’t really alone, Scott, Melissa, and the Sheriff are here but she can’t desert him in his time of dying. She tries not to think about it: him dying. So she denies the truth and relishes in their memories. She thinks about the day he proposed, or their wedding day, or the day she found out she was pregnant, the ultrasounds, the craving’s, the midnight trips to Five Guys. Not about the harsh realities that face her._

_They don’t expect him to make it through the night. In a way, Lydia wants to go with him. She was tired, both mentally and physically. She just wanted to close her eyes and never open them again._

 

 

“Can’t get out of what?” Scott asks only wanting clarification for he knew what she was talking about.

“That day.” She mumbled, their eyes meeting. “I can’t get out of that day.” Scott shuts his eyes in dread. She’s never wanted to talk about that day before. He’d try every now and again, hoping if I’d help someone how. But she’d never budge.

“Y-You didn’t do anything.” Her strained words pained him, for he never once told her the truth.

“I wanted to.” He reveals. “I talked to him, before he… before it all...” HE can't bring himself to finish the sentence as he tries to explain. “I told him the risks, and how they out weighted everything. But he didn’t want to. I think we both knew he was too weak for it to work.”

Lydia frowned for she was completely lost. “I-I don’t understand.”

“He told me not to.” Scott revealed. “He told me that it wasn’t fair for him to cheat—“

“Wasn’t fair?!” Lydia nearly exploded. “You want to talk to me about what is and isn't fair?! No, what wasn’t fair was losing my husband when there was something that could’ve been done to—“

“To what Lydia?” Scott tested. “To save him?” He suggested.

The strawberry blond swallowed not knowing where he was taking this. “He didn’t want that. And you and I both know he wouldn’t have survived the bite. It would’ve killed him… Lydia he was too weak… too—”

“You don’t know that!” She shot back in defense. “Yes I do.” Scott replied calmly, trying to get her understand it wasn’t possible. “You said it yourself, he was going to die. And there was nothing, not even the bite that could’ve saved him.”

 

 

_Twelve hours into the wait and she hasn’t once slept. Dark circles grow under her eyes as she wills herself to stay awake and stay calm although every cell in her body wanted to explode. She didn’t mumble a word, just stared upon his gaze and kept their hands intertwined._

_She knew it was coming, and the fact that Scott hadn’t said anything or done anything yet made her antsy on the edge of her seat in desperation. But somehow, she strangled together a bit of hope._

_“Stiles.” She called aimlessly just waiting for him to reply. And when he didn’t she tried again, her voice breaking with every syllable in his name. “Stiles.” It was more urgent—more desperate than she wanted to come off but she no longer knew what to do. His heartbeat was weakening, his vital signs slowly lowering. She remains calm though, with the voices of a million denying phrases repeating in her mind. And it’s not until a small alarm goes off that she realizes this is it._

_She meets eyes with Scott as a mix of horror and rain flash across her face._

_For whatever reason there’s no rippling urge to scream overwhelming her to her core._

_There’s nothing._

_And she’s more confused than ever. She should’ve screamed. Lydia’s grip on his arm tightens for dear life. She stares at it observing every crease every curve every hollow of his hand wanting nothing more to stay like that forever and feel the life beneath it._

_And after a moment, Melissa reaches over and shut the machines off, their sounding alarms coming to an abrupt halt leaving nothing but the sound crying hanging in the air around them._

_She still doesn’t understand why she didn’t scream. And the thing is, she hasn’t screamed once since then. Maybe it was the greater power of denial, or maybe she did scream and had no recollection of it. No one ever said anything regarding it._

 

 

“I can’t do this anymore Scott.” Lydia mumbles not staring off into the distance. Scott frowns.

“Do what?” He doesn’t quiet understand what she means. “I can’t go like this anymore.” Her voice quivers at the uncertainty that has become her life. And suddenly she exhales a deep sob as quickly as Scott’s arms come to wrap around her.

“I miss him everyday—I-I know it’s supposed to get better but it’s not Scott. It’s not.” She shakes her head helplessly. Scott nods. "I-It's not." It was strange, her situation. The average time it takes to grieve is about a year, but it’s been well over fifteen months for Lydia and it was only getting worse. Sure the nightmares stopped, and the hallucinations eased. But they’ve managed to infect her life with poison. And although she wasn’t alone—not really, she always felt as if she was.

“You’re not the only one.” Scott whispers bringing confusion to Lydia’s face.

“What do you mean?”

“You should visit someone with me today.”

She feeds him a strange, perplexed look but nods, trusting the sincerity in his tone. “Okay.”

She doesn’t realize where they’re going until Scott gets on the ramp to 80 north. But she doesn’t say anything, not wanting to scare herself senseless. _I can do this._ She repeats aimlessly trying to stick it through, although she’s barely made the trip up there since the accident. Scott just feeds her a small smile and turns back to the road. There was no faking she didn’t know where they were headed. He knew she was too smart not too. And even though she’s practically trembling at the thought of what is happening, she doesn’t do anything to stop it.

When they pull into the driveway she’s actually trembling. She hasn’t laid eyes on wood panels and brick that formed together and made the Stilinski house in a year, and slowly the guilt starts to builds inside. She watches as Scott jump out of the car and around to her side where he opens the door, waiting for her to climb out. But she doesn’t move. In fact she has to shut the house out of her focus to relieve her short breath.

But Scott is nothing but patient with her. He knows doing this was a big step, but in all honesty it was what she needed. “Lydia.” He’s calm as he speaks. But she shakes her head. “I…I can’t.” She mumbles softly, her eyes resting on his composed expression.

“Yeah you can.” He continues with ease. “It’s just the Sheriff’s.”

But its not. It not just the Sheriff’s. It was the place Stiles grew up in, it was the place that harvested her and hosted her emotions, it was the place where she first began to fall in love with Stiles Stilinski. It was so much more than a house, than a place.

But in the end she remained voiceless and nodded, getting out of the car, one slow moving limb after the other. The gravel dragged underneath her feet as she forced her legs to further approach the front door. Her heart rate spiked as her breath shortened again and Scott could feel the tension rising in her body through the hand he place supportingly on her shoulder.

She was scared. Of what exactly? He had no specific idea but he guessed it had to do with her evaluating guilt of not visiting Stiles’ father after his death.

“It’s fine Lydia.” He reassures softly guiding her closer. They don’t even have to knock, for the Sheriff opens the door just as they reach it.

“Lydia.” The word tastes raw as it slips off his touch for he hasn’t spoken it in months. But in a way, it’s comforting and he finds himself wanting to repeat it over and over. And all he can think as he takes her appearance in is that she's too young, too beautiful to be a widow.

She swears she can see the Stiles in him. The strawberry blond freezes or a moment, latching her eyes on to his.

“Sheriff.” She mumbles back her eyes nearly watering.

From the corner of her eye she can see Scott trying to conceal a smile and she can’t help but feel grateful for him. What happens next she can hardly comprehend. Before he knows it the Sheriffs arms are around her body and her tears are halfway to the floor. She had forgotten how much she missed him. He had played a major role in her and Stiles’ lives. He’d come down to the city nearly every weekend, or they’d make the drive up. Spending their time aimlessly around the barbecue, dinner tables, and walking around Golden Gate Park. God she misses those days where nothing was broken and the promise of the future still hung in the air.

She hugs him back, allowing every part of herself to get lost in his fatherly embrace.

“It’s been too long.” He exhales letting her go, and for some reason she can’t bring herself to look him in the eye as she replies. “I know.” Guilt flashes across her face once more as he leads them inside.

The house is dim and so still, it makes her uncomfortable. Although the house was rather dim back then, the place was always jumping with the lost trails of energy from Stiles. Even after he moved out.

It was strange to be back. It almost felt like a different place.

“Melissa is dropping by later for dinner, she’s gonna be happy to see you guys.” Stilinski states soberly as they both nod, agreeing. “Where’s Kira? You told me you’d bring her last time.” He continues, making small talk. But Scott can see right through him. He’s putting on a smile to hide the pain he knows is present around Lydia. “Kira’s doing good. Caught up in work, you know how it is.” The sheriff nods and takes a seat on recliner in the living room.

Lydia can’t help but notice the walls are bare. Where there were once framed pictures of the Stilinski Family now remain empty, stripped walls. She finds herself trying to look for a picture of him around the house, then turns to back to the set smile on the Sheriffs face. An alarm goes off in the back of her head. But the walls aren’t the only flag that is raised. 

A strong smell alcohol lingers around the room and at first she can't tell if its in the furniture or just his clothes but there's no denying the presence of it.

“The walls are empty.” Lydia comments lightly as she watches the expression on Stilinski’s face slightly fall. He just nods through the silence, letting his eyes wander to the walls, for he doesn’t know what else to say.

 “That’s a shame.” She states with a tight lipped smile.

“You don’t have to put on a façade with me Sheriff.” She mumbles getting up, her arms tracing the little bumps and hollows in the walls. “We’re all struggling.” She glances at Scott as she speaks but doesn’t allow him to reply because before she knows it she’s found her way to the foot of the stairs wanting nothing more than to climb them to his room and drown herself in the memory of him.

“I’ll be right back.”

His room is like a tomb, untouched, silent, and so still that her presence feels foreign. His bed was still against the corner of left wall, clean and made, a rare occurrence in the Stilinski household. Desk to the side, where school notebooks lay scattered in its cubbies. The posters on his walls were stripped and replaced with an endless wave of suspect pictures, locations, claims, all connected by an interlocked system of coded colors.

She raises her hand and drags her finger against the red yarn feeling the strain beneath her finger.

 

 

  _“Green is solved, yellow’s to be determined, and blue’s just pretty.”_

_“What does red mean?”_

_“Uh, Unsolved.”_

_“You only have red on the board.”_

_“Yes, I’m aware, thank you.”_

 

 

She smiles at the distant memory and grabs the coiled up red string from where it sat on top of his desk, taking a seat on the bed and looking around in a comforting sense of wonder. She doesn’t understand how, but the sheets somehow still smell like him. Her eyes lock in the clear investigative board shoved against the back wall, and although smudged over the years, some of his writing still remained, sloppy and careless for Stiles wouldn’t have it any other way.

She always felt like she was somehow standing of the inner workings of his mind whenever she walked in to his room and sitting there now, the feeling was just the same. Her hands subconsciously played with the string, wrapping it around her fingers in intricate patterns and cutting off her circulation as the memories came back, playing in her mind like a an old movie reel.

 

 

_“Barrow was there, alright? You knew it, you felt it… okay? And look, if you wanted to, I’d go back to that school right now and search all night just to prove it.”_

 

 

Her eyes trailed his walls to the the pictures around his bed that took her a moment to realize weren’t apart of his investigations. In fact, it was far from it.

Photos of them, all of them.

From graduation to prom to college, it was all there. Her eyes land on a picture of them two and Scott all dressed up in their graduation gowns, smiling, for the world was in their palm of their hands at the time. She wants to touch it, take it off the wall and study his perplexing grin forever. But she doesn’t dare disturb the room, wanting to leave it as it last was.

When she gets back downstairs the Sheriff is watching something on the television and Scott is across the hall in the kitchen hiding all the liquor away where he knows the Sheriff won’t bother looking.

“Has he been drinking a lot?” Lydia mumbles entering the room. She stands before Scott feeling quite like an idiot for she was supposed to be the one to know this. “Yeah. Stiles mentioned this happened after his mother… I-I guess I never realized how bad it was.” Scott exhales resting against the kitchen counter in near defeat. Lydia just nods, not knowing what to really say or think as a matter of fact. She knew Stiles’ father had a something sort of bad habit when it came to alcohol, she just didn’t register that it could be worse than what he’d tell her. The place reeked with the smell of whiskey, lingering around the furniture, embedded in the walls. It was bad.

Yet the Sheriff managed to cover it all with a fake smile and warm welcome.

“My mom checks on him occasionally.” Scott reveals. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“How often do you come up here?” She whispers curiously. Somehow it was always Scott who was left behind to pick up all the pieces, this was no different.

“Two, threes time a week.” He shrugs, lying. Recently it had been more along the lines of four or five, nearly every day after. He never mentioned anything to Kira, he was just working over time thats how he was spending his time in her eyes. He felt bad for lying, sure, but there simply wasn’t enough to please them all.

“What you watching?” Scott asks as they come back to the living room taking a seat on the couch and starring back at the TV when the Sheriff doesn’t answer quick enough. From the looks of it, it’s some sort of home video.

There’s a woman sitting in a chair the table Lydia recognizes as the Sheriff’s wife from distant pictures Stiles had shown her and she can hear the Sheriff’s voice off camera.

“Oh my god.” She mumbles in realization that the baby babbling away in her arms was none other than Stiles.

_His mouth was wide open as he shouts and rambles random sounds in pure content. There are mashed vegetables all over his mouth. “That isn’t funny, I’m trying to feed him!” The woman shouted trying to contain the smile that threatened to escape. But the Sheriff continued to laugh. “I really don’t think he’s hungry, Claudia!” He exclaims as his wife shoots him a dirty look._

“Even as a baby we could never get him to shut up.” The Sheriff chuckles his eyes watering over like hers. “Oh god, what I’d give to hear his voice again.” He sniffs, his voice burdened with the weight of a million broken hearts.

Upon hearing him, Lydia’s smiles turns into a burrowed frown as she tries to remember the exact sound of his voice. Her eyes snap to Scott and back in near panic for she can’t seem to pin point it.

“Hey I know a way.” Scott quickly comments once he realizes whats happening. He nearly jumps out of his seat reaching for the laptop on the coffee table and plugging it to the TV via HDMI cable. Both Stilinski and Lydia watch him, their curiosity reaching a peak.

And when the video pops up her head feels like its about to explode either from excitement or nausea, she couldn’t tell. “You guys were making the video diaries, remember?” Scott continued taking his seat back as the file played. Lydia’s eyes were glued to screen for they head the image of Stiles months before the crash. Perfectly fine. She didn’t know if she could watch this. Already her core was being filled with an endless wave of overwhelming emotion.

He was driving, the open sea in the background behind him along with the large steel beams that framed the Golden Gate Bridge. She remembers this. She was filming because the scenery was amazing and she wanted it to be featured in their little project.

“That was a good day.” She mumbled not being bale to think anything else.

 

 

_For the first few seconds she trying to get the camera to focus right, so it’s quiet with the exception of the humming noise of the bridge. They decided the day before, when Stiles came home from work completely drained from running into dead ends on his case, that they should take the weekend off and go upstate to Muir Beach to that little Inn by the water._

_The sky was so clear, and the sun was beating down so hard that it was nearly a eighty degree’s in the city at seven am. It was weird but welcomed weather and there was no way they weren’t going to take advance of that. So they packed their bags, shut off their cells phones and headed out. Lydia started filming halfway in the trip wanting to remember the lazy days they spent like that._

_“Hey babe?” She called, holding the camera on his person. “Yeah?” He quickly glanced her way, realizing she was filming. “How much do you love me?” She questioned with a set grin. The corners of Stiles’ lips quickly widened. but he didn’t dare question her. Instead he took a moment trying hard to think of the most cheesy romantic thing he could come up with._

_“To the moon and back.” He replies, content with his answer. He knew Lydia was literal, so she wasn’t going to be pleased, that’s why this was going to be fun. And just as he predicted, Lydia pretends to be offended, realizing was he messing with her._

_“Oh… so you only love me about 238,855 miles? Wow, didn’t think you’d put a measurement on our love, Stiles.” She turns her head in the opposite direction, the camera still steady on his view._

_“AAnd you took it there,” Stiles quickly laughs, as he watched his wife pout._

_“you know, only you can turn something so romantic so cynical.” He comments setting his eyes back to the road._

_“Eh, I try.” She shrugs, letting out one final chuckle._

 

 

She quickly remembers how much she misses him. From that point it was like he was a distant memory in the back of her mind that she replayed over and over unlit most of it was worn out and faded. Watching this now was like taking a looking into a clear mirror of reality. This was all that was left of him now.

“Now, I know this one was not intentional but I still kept it.” Scott commented as it rolled.

 

 

_Nearly everyone is in the second video. They’re in a half painted room, wearing nothing but teared, old clothing with speaks and strokes of June Day yellow stain all over them. They’re supposed to be painting the baby room and the boys, Scott and Stiles are trying to set the camera to take a picture with the timer but failing. In the corner, over the confused voices of the boys, Lydia’s four month pregnant belly is bulging as she tells Kira with too much excitement where she bought the baby furniture and how she plans on arranging it when it finally gets there. They’re both holding brushes in their hands, but have yet no intention of actually doing anything with them._

_Melissa and the Sheriff are the only ones really doing any work as they laugh amongst themselves about something that the camera can’t really pick up. But the whole scene is so serene that Lydia doesn’t mind watching it the way it was. Everything fit into place back then. Her life was all figured out. Everything made sense. She swears she could watch them bicker, and talk, and laugh, and just live forever. But eventually something clicks on the camera and the boys step into the frame as Stiles hollers everyone to form together to take a picture._

_“Come on! Come on! We have ten seconds before this thing goes off!” He shouts quickly positioning himself next to Lydia and throwing an arm around her. But they hold their stance for what feels like more than ten seconds and still nothing happens._

_“It’s not doing the thing.” Lydia comments in annoyance. She was having such a great conversation with Kira._

_Stiles’ smile dropped as he paced back to the camera taking it off the tripod in quick, abrupt movements. “Half a months salary on this thing and it can’t even take pictures!” He mumbles lowly as the turns the lens to face him._

_The camera disappears from the group in their pose and onto a close up of Stiles’ face as he struggles to get the camera to work. “Try turning it off and on!” He heard the sheriff shout in the distance._

Lydia laughs unexpectedly. Tears rolling down her face with such longing for the boy in the frame.

_“Wait, I think I got it!” He replies, his finger close to the shutter release._

 

 

He smiles at the camera as the video cuts and the next one automatically starts playing.

This time Stiles is not in view for he’s the one filming. Its an image of what Lydia remembers to be a Lazy Sunday morning. She’s sitting alone at the kitchen table by that large window that let in all the golden sunlight, that burns her hair and wild red, and skimming through a book of quantum physics in her hands she’s read more than a million times.

 

 

_“God, she’s gorgeous.” Stiles comments off camera. To which Lydia realizes he’s filming her and turns in his direction. “Shut it off Stiles, I’m not in the mood.” She snaps, miserably sipping on her tea, hoping to god it kept her awake. “Aw, is someone a bit bitter that they had to switch to tea?” Stiles continues, basically feeding himself to the lion._

_Lydia’s book falls flat against the table top, revealing her five month pregnant belly, her deadly glare burning into his eyes._

_“You don't not have a right to make fun of me.” She starts, low and dangerous._

_“When you, Stiles Stilinski,” She sounds his name with emphasis. “are five months pregnant, can’t see your feet, and can barely keep your eyes open at nine in the morning because you’ve grown so dependent on coffee but suddenly can no longer have it anymore, you can make fun of me!” She was clearly not in a good mood. And Stiles wasn’t handling the situation any better, in fact he was rather amused he managed to get the whole thing on camera._

_“Turn it off.” She whined._

_“Oh, she’s feisty in the morning.” Stiles commented._

_The poor boy didn’t even see the shoe flying toward the him before it hit him._

 

 

“These are great.” The Sheriff is the first to speak after Scott decided that was enough by the expression that held to Lydia’s face. She could barely handle the three videos let alone the whole project. But she nods in agreement, feeling utter relief when she realized he stopped playing them. “I think I forgot how much I really miss him.” She spoke shakily through the tears that threatened to escape. And they all took a moment to allow themselves to breathe.

It had been a while since she saw his face so clear, and instead of the release she thought she’d find upon facing him, she found nothing but guilt. Guilt for all the things she did after his death. Guilt for the way she lived. Guilt for the way she grieved, for he knew she was stronger than what she made herself to be. From that moment on she knew it had to stop. The excessive drinking, the drugs, the smoking, the crazy partying, because Stiles wasn’t coming back to stop her. She had to do it herself. She had to move on from the horror that plagued her life and start a new chapter. It was what he would’ve wanted.

“Uh, we have something for you.” Scott spoke, cutting through the silence and catching Lydia’s attention in confusion. She frowns slightly, and gazes at the two men before her not really knowing what to expect. “Come on.” Scott continued, getting up and motion her to follow. But she sat still, contemplating what it was they were trying to do. She eyes the Sheriff who was right behind Scott. “It’s okay, come on.” He insisted with a smile she knew wasn’t forced.

So she got up and a followed them to the side of the kitchen and through the door to the garage. The lights switched on just as her eyes adjust on the figure standing shiny and new before her. Her heart skipped and suddenly her breath shortened, holding Scott’s hand too tight.

The blue jeep stood tall, shining bright in the lights above it. She remembered looking over a few files with their lawyer a few weeks after the crash and spotting a couple pictures of what remained of the old jeep. Most of the driver’s side had been crushed upon impact. Never the less the car resemble nothing of what it once was. She remember’s thinking how could two people have fit in the wreck. But standing before it right now almost felt like a dream.

It was funny, she half expected Stiles to pop out of nowhere and take it out for a spin. She can almost see him sitting in the drivers seat with a goofy smile on his face. And she smiles at the thought, and welcomes all the positive reenforcement the jeep provides. But still, she doesn’t understand how this could be. The car had been ruined past being fixed, it was nearly a lost cause.

"H-How?” She questions not being able to form together a proper sentence. Her mind was racing. She looks past the Sheriff, to Scott who revealed one of the biggest smiles she’s seen in a while.

“It took awhile.” He states swiftly, then shrugs it off as if it’s no big deal.

But big deal it was. At least to her.

This is truly the one thing she missed the most along side Stiles. And now it was somehow miraculously back in her life, just like that.

“We fixed it up, little by little every time I came up for a visit.” He explains as Lydia shoots him the unbelievable look plastered to her face. She can’t believe it. “They told me they totaled it.” She mumbles, walking around it in awe. “I managed to pull a few strings around the station.” The Sheriff starts. “I just couldn’t let this old thing go.” He exhales patting the hood of the car. Lydia nods. “Yeah I know. It nearly killed me to let it go. B-but I had no idea what to do with the thing. It wasn’t even a car anymore…” She speaks so faintly, letting the tips of her fingers trace patterns along side the door.

“Does it run?” She questions, this time a little louder.

Scott nods opening the drivers door. “Oh yeah. Care for a spin?” And Lydia can’t be more eager.

She adjust’s herself in the drivers seat, fixing the mirror’s to her preference and making sure she’s comfortable before nearly demanding the keys. “You’re not coming?” She questions once she realizes neither of the men make a further attempt to hop in. Scott just continues that husky smile of his and shakes his head. “Oh we’ve had our fair share of driving this thing. It’s your turn.”

“Thank you.” Lydia speaks with such clarity Scott finds himself questioning the last time he heard her with such confidence.

Not only was this thank you reserved for the ride, or the car, or this trip even, it was for all those six am mornings he stood at the foot of her front door with breakfast in his arms knowing she wouldn’t feed herself, it was for all those nights he took off to keep track of her through all those clubs and bars, it was for all those days he’d spend picking up her damaged pieces from the night before, it was for continuing to care and love for her no matter how vile and cruel her words stung, and it was for that, and so much more.

She kick starts the engine, feeling the jeep roar back to life underneath her control in pure euphoria and backs out of the garage out onto the open road before her.

Scott and Stilinski stand side by side watching her drive down the end of the road and disappear from their view. A quiet, sullen, but satisfied smile on both their faces.

 

Scott gets the voice message about an hour after she left. His mother had come for dinner just like the Sheriff had announced, and after little explanation and some good conversation they decided to eat without Lydia. He was standing on the deck in the backyard, the golden hues of the setting sun illuminating the world around him in a peaceful ambiance.

_“I know I didn’t say goodbye, but the closer I got to the highway the more I couldn’t will myself to come back. I think it’s time for me to go away for a while. This isn’t goodbye, not really. Try not to worry too much, I’ll be okay. I just really need this.”_


End file.
